Deadbeat Club
by Miral
Summary: Drabbles. The fics that got away. The stuff that was not up to snuff. Inspiration fizzled.  Evidence that when I'm not posting I'm not just sitting around eating bonbons with Eric. Why? Why not?
1. Betrayal

Not mine. I just like to play with them. This was inspired by the lovely **Jan_of_Arc** whose wonderful SVM fanfic can be read on ericnorthman DOT net and Livejournal. She posted a drabble on LJ with the topic, "Traitor's Gate" and this was what came to my mind, ole anal retentive Bill and his recycling OCD. It's been alluded to in the past that Jessica is not quite as devoted a recycler as he. He would see it as a betrayal. 100 words.

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_Ah don't know why she does this. She should have more respect._

Bill was upset.

_We haven't had an easy time, but we're family. Though the magister forced me to make her doesn't mean we can't have a healthy maker-child relationship._

The thought of maker-child relationships quickly brought to mind Bill's least favorite maker-child duo: Eric and Pam.

Bill detested them. The blonde hair. Vivaciousness. Penchant for ill-bred humor. For months Bill had been receiving an unwelcome newsletter, Depressed Vamp. He knew Eric and Pam were responsible.

_When she gets home, Ah will speak to Jessicah about her sloppy recycling._

**

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AN: This is Sookehverse. I was toying with this idea for a while. The Deadbeat Club is -aside from drabbles- going to be all my fics that just never get off the ground. Maybe it'll inspire me to do something with them. The "Depressed Vamp" newsletter. Any ideas of what a newsletter would include? **


	2. Roasting Eric Northman

Not mine. I just like to play with them. This was inspired by the lovely **Peppermintyrose** and her Saint Eric contest and would you believe I forgot all about it until I clicked open the Word file just now? The delicious **SassyVampMama** had a hand in this needless to say. Also, nods to comedians** Lisa Lampanelli **and** Craig ****Ferguson.**

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**Roasting Eric Northman**

"Hallo. I'm Greg Ferguson. This is my disgusting whore of a co-host, Laura Lumpanelli."

applause

"It's a great day for America, everybody. Why's that you ask? It's because Eric Northman, former pillager and Viking extraordinaire has chosen to settle down here!"

"Why here, Greg?"

"Well, you know how he's a thousand years old, Laura?"

"Yeah, I know. That's how many years my ex-boyfriend's got left on his sentence at Riker's. He was caught stealing a loaf of bread. He's black, you know."

"Yes, well," Greg looks at Laura, pauses, and then continues. "Apparently since Eric was in Europe so long, he's fucked everyone on the continent so he came to the Americas in search of new poontang."

"Yeah!" nods Laura. "I hear he does guys, too. Which is another thing he's got in common now with my ex at Riker's."

Greg makes a face. "Yes, well. Let's get back to our roast, shall we?"

"Our first roaster is someone who has known Eric Northman for many years. As a fellow vampire and Louisiana resident, this vamp has often found himself on the receiving end-"

"Oh yeah!" Laura fist-pumps enthusiastically.

"No Laura, not sex."

"Oh, no?"

Greg shakes his head. "Well, I don't think so," he shrugs. "Anyway, this vamp has often found himself on the receiving end of insults, capricious demands, and general ridicule."

"Are you sure this vamp's a guy? Sounds like it should be a chick."

"No, no, Laura. It's a guy."

"Okay, then. Had me confused."

"Let me introduce the number one moneymaker in Vampire Area Five, Shreveport, LA, as well as Eric Northman's Number One Underling, Mr. Bill Compton."

applause

Bill Compton, in khakis and Izod polo shirt, rises from his seat on the deis table and walks to the podium.

"Hi, Ah prepared a little speech with some help from my good friend, Greg Ferguson."

Greg shakes his head, indicating not to say any more. Bill, confused, just nods and continues.

"Ah definitely have things Ah'd like to say about Eric:

"Eric, since you've been a part of my life, nothing has been the same. You may take that however you wish.

"Eric Northman is the only other being on this planet who can even come close to the number of past sexual partners as Laura Lumpanelli. She recently had to install a revolving door on her vagina to accommodate the number of guys going in and out.

"More vamps have come on Laura than have ever come out of the coffin…"

**

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AN: This is Sookehverse. Please note: This is based on Lisa Lampanelli's humor! **


	3. A Bon Temps Festivus

Not mine. I just like to play with them. An unfinished fanfic I started for one of the Weekly One Shot Challenges a couple of weeks back. Thank you** Seinfeld!**

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A Bon Temps Festivus**

"Okay, Grandpappy. You ready?" Andy Bellefleur, a vampire, looked over at Bill Compton. Bill was Andy's vampire grandfather as well as his human great great grandfather.

"Yes, Andy," Bill nodded. "Ah think Ah've told you how much Ah don't appreciate you calling me that." Bill threw a dejected look at his grandson.

"Yeah? So what," snarled Andy. "I've told you how much I don't appreciate being a vamp. Fat lotta good it does to bitch, huh?"

"But there is nothing we can do about you being a vampire; you, on the other hand, could stop calling me names." Bill intoned gravely.

Andy looked thoughtfully at Bill. He seemed to consider whether or not he really could stop calling Bill names.

"No, sorry. Grandpappy," he shook his head. "No can do. I think that's it until one of us meets the sun."

Bill rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said huffily. "Are Jessicah and Hoyt bringing the aluminum pole?"

"Yeah, Grandpappy. Hoyt texted me. They got it okay. They should be here soon."

"What time is everyone else getting here?"

"About midnight."

"So, let me understand this. This Festivus is a holiday?"

"Yeah, Grandpappy. I've been trying to figure out what to do as far as religion goes since becoming a vamp." Andy grunted. "Most of them seem a little old-fashioned now that I'm immortal. Pam suggested we give Festivus a try."

"So we'd be Festivusians?"

Andy shrugged. "Guess so."

"So what do we do again?"

"Well, first we have an airing of grievances."

Bill's eyes lit up. "Oh! Ah will get a chance to tell everyone what Ah think of them?"

Andy, impatient, made a face. "No! No! Not you, Grandpappy! It's the head of the household that gets to air their grievances."

"But, Andy," Bill shook his head, a smug smile on his face. "Ah am the head of the household."

"You really like to live with your head up your ass, don't you, Grandpappy? I've been the head of the household since I moved in. And if I weren't around, Jess would be in charge. They don't even call this place the old Compton place anymore."

"What? They don't?"

"No."

"What do they call it?"

"Andy and Jess's place."

"Really?"

"Yeah," nodded Andy. "But if you want to air your grievances," Andy shrugged, "why should Festivus be different from any other day? As far as I can tell, every time you open your mouth, it's to bitch about something."

"That's not true!"

Andy grunted, unconvinced.

**

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AN: This is Sookehverse. I love Andy Bellefleur/Chris Bauer. And I love Festivus. I don't know why I never got enough inspiration to finish this fic. I love Andy's rationale for his difficulties with religion. And the fact that it was PAM! who suggested it. LOLZ...**


	4. The ESL Class

**Disclaimer: Most characters belong to Charlaine Harris. **

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The slovenly Scotsman attempted to get up, only to slide down to the ground once more. Drunk and high, he kept attempting to stand only to stumble once he'd realize his leg was asleep.

"Bloody hell," he muttered. Resigned that his leg was refusing to cooperate he decided to just remain where he was.

Where he was was sitting on the sidewalk outside New York's Studio 54. Dressed to the nines, drunk and high revelers made a steady stream outside the club. Our friend, incapable of standing, was unable to join them. It didn't stop him from greeting them.

"Hey! Hey! Are you Cher? Aren't you Cher? Where's the little one? You know! The little one!" Slobbering with a mouth filled with excess saliva, he'd pause only to start up again a few seconds later. "Aw, I say! Aren't you William Shatner? I recognize you, you cheeky monkey! Captain Kirk! Aw, you too good to say hello? Yeah? Well, beam this!" With that the Scotsman raised both middle fingers in a two gun salute as the frightened man -who was not William Shatner-ducked into the club.

Feeling a strange pulsing in the energy next to him, the Scotsman turned his head to look.

There beside him were two men. At least that's what they looked like. The Scotsman had his doubts.

"I say, you're in my space a bit. You think you could move a teensy bit back? I have a thing about crowds. I think it's from living on the sidewalk."

The younger man nodded but did not move. Golden blond hair, at least 6'4", built like an Adonis, the Scotsman could only stare at him.

_I don't think I'm gay_, he thought. _But maybe I am. I've been high quite a long time_.

"Hello," the young man nodded.

The Scotsman pulled his eyes away from the blonde man's face and noticed for the first time what he was wearing. Pink and aqua tights and a black wifebeater t-shirt.

The Scotsman licked his lips.

"I say, vampire," the older man finally spoke. "I'm not sure what we'd do with this one."

The Scotsman looked up at the older man. He had long golden-grey hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. The hair fell loosely around his head. He wore a technicolor robe of oranges, yellows, and blues. Both men wore tan high-heeled boots.

"Procurement, fairy."

"This one is an indigent."

"Yes, but he obviously belongs here."

"You think he can get us what we need?"

"It's worth a try, Niall."

The Scotsman, meanwhile, sitting on the ground at their feet had been twisting his head back and forth to look between the two.

"I say, you two feel like telling me what's going on?"

The Scotsman immediately regreted his question as the blonde man suddenly crouched down to speak with him. His angular white face inches from his own, the blonde man ran a long white finger along the Scotsman's face.

"All in good time. Do you have a name?"

"Um, not really."

The blonde man raised an eyebrow in question. The Scotsman reconsidered.

"Oh? A _name_? I thought you asked me if I had a _game_?"

The blonde man smiled slightly and shook his head.

"My name is Eric Northman." He nodded. "This," he paused and jerked his head upward, "is Niall Brigant."

"Oh," the Scotsman nodded. "Yes, yes. Very nice to meet you. I'm Prince Phillip. How'd you do?"

Eric looked at him. His face still, his eyebrow rose nearly imperceptibly.

"Uh, I'm not Prince Phillip?"

Eric just kept staring at him.

"I'm David Bowie?"

Eric continued his cold stare.

The Scotsman sighed.

"My name is Greg Ferguson."

"Thank you, Greg Ferguson. Are you here alone?"

Greg, looking at the otherworldly looking men, wasn't sure what the right answer was. If he said 'yes,' they might just force him to go with them. If he said, 'no,' they might go find Stefon and force the two of them to go with them.

_Well, if I'm gonna be offed by a couple of glowing Scandinavians, I'd like Stefon to be there with me_, he thought

"No," he finally replied. "My friend Stefon is in the club." Greg paused a beat before speaking again. "I say, do you two always do that?"

"Do what, Greg?

"Glow. You seem like you're glowing."

In a second, Niall was crouched down beside Eric.

"You say we seem to glow to you?"

"Uh, yes. But it's a nice glow. A healthy glow. You're obviously very clean. You both have lovely auras, chakras and all that."

Eric and Niall exchanged a look.

"How would he see that?"

"Perhaps he's part supe, vampire."

Eric frowned.

"Look at him, fairy. Would you want to claim him as kin?"

Greg Ferguson sneezed. A light smattering of mucous spread below his nose. He emphatically swiped at the area using his coat sleeve. Upon doing this, he noticed a string on his coat. Yanking on it, he proceeded to use the string to floss his teeth.

Eric, watching, winced.

"I am thinking he may not be the one for us."

"Yes, but we can't let him go until we know what he is, Eric."

Eric continued to watch their new friend. Although Eric had been able to smell the fear on Greg only seconds before, the man seemed to have forgotten the presence of the two supes, so caught up in his street ablutions. He'd found a piece of gum wrapped in a ball in his pocket. Rewetting the gum with his saliva, he then rubbed it along his teeth with his fingers.

Disgusted, Eric stood up. Niall followed.

"This thing is a disgrace. How can we use him?"

Looking down, they saw Greg, finally done brushing his teeth, had popped the gum into his mouth and was now chewing it.

"Well, vampire, we need to figure out what he is. Grab the other side of him and let's get him into the car."

Eric and Niall each grabbed an arm of the drooling Scotsman.

Registering that he was moving, Greg surmised his new friends had come to a decision on his future. Looking past them, his eyes beheld a sight that normally would send him scuttling away. Today it was the loveliest thing he'd ever seen his life.

"Oh, Eric? Niall?"

The two cohorts looked at Greg.

"There's going to be a raid," he said, his voice low.

"How do you know this? Are you a psychic?"

The Scotsman frowned.

"Psychic? I'm barely conscious," he shook his head. "There's a cop behind you," he shrugged his head gesturing towards the officer.

Eric and Niall turned and saw a police officer approach. Eric turned to Greg.

"Let us handle this and perhaps you will live to see another sunrise."

"Aw, sunrise? Don't fancy myself a day person really. Tend to be up all night a lot of the time. Partying and drinking and the like-"

Suddenly Eric's face was inches from Greg's. Revealing his true nature for the first time, Greg could see the pale, tall blonde man had fangs.

Greg Ferguson's eyes widened in amazement.

"WHAT? You're a vampire, too?

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**AN: WTF? I have no effing idea what I had in mind. Suggestions welcomed. **


	5. Primal Screams

**_Not mine. I just like to play with them. Inspired by the Fangreaders Drabble Challenge with the topic, "Rebel Yell". It's 100 words._**

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"Come on, Mr. Compton. We haven't got all day."

"Ah cahn't."

Amy Ludwig sighed. Bill Compton had been coming in for therapy for several weeks, prompted by a coupon from "_Depressed Vamp_" newsletter. Dr. Ludwig, knowing nothing about the newsletter, asked Eric Northman. Northman knew all about it and offered to pay Ludwig the difference on the coupon. The doctor was certain Northman was scamming Compton but she figured Northman was right; the emo vampire needed help.

"Come on, Mr. Compton. It's called Primal _Scream_ Therapy. Remember back to a time when you had balls. Now, just let 'er rip!"

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**AN: This is Sookehverse. _As usual with the Sookehverse it references past Sookehverse pieces, including the last FangReaders Drabble (Deadbeat Club, Ch. 1) as well as "_****Oh No! Vampire Bill!**" Chapter 8, Twelve Steps. 


	6. Dead With the Wind

**_Not mine. I just like to play with them. Nods to Margaret Mitchell because yes, this was to be a "mash-up" of SVM and Gone With the Wind called Dead With the Wind._**

**_Nods also to Sharis, who was working on this with me. This one *might* happen some day. I get a lot of ideas. I just don't have time because of work. _**

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**_Bon Temps, Louisiana, April 1861_**

It was 1859 when the "others" made their presence known.

My sister Amelia and I weren't surprised when the vampires first revealed themselves. Our middle sister, Tara, actually did need some convincing. Jason, our brother, also met the revelation with disbelief. But Amelia and I have long recognized that things-people-are not always what they seem.

Take me for example. If you met me at a party or in town or at the market, you would think I'm just another 20-year old blonde, blue-eyed Southern belle. But I have a gift that no one else has. Some days it seems more a curse. I'm a telepath. I can read minds. With practice, I've learned to control it over the years. My sisters, especially Amelia, have helped me practice blocking out the thoughts.

At 18, Amelia's chestnut brown hair, brown eyes and decidedly less bountiful curves would belie the fact that we're sisters. But she has a gift too. Amelia practices witchcraft. She started when barely out of her childhood. One of the house servants, Octavia, regularly developed potions to facilitate one event or another to happen. Amelia was immediately fascinated and began to go to Octavia at night and beg to be allowed to watch. Octavia told Amelia she had natural powers and has been training Amelia since then.

Our sister Tara is 19. Taller than either Amelia or myself, with dark brown hair, Tara is classically beautiful. She tolerates Ame and I but we know she thinks we exaggerate our powers. Although, I've plucked direct thoughts out of her head so many times over the years and she's seen things manifest themselves at Ame's behest, you'd think she'd know better.

Jason is the oldest of the Stackhouse kids but he's definitely got the most growing up to do. At 21, he's not only not married, but he's been kicked out of several schools in several counties. Our father tries to be stern with him but our mother has a tendency to mollycoddle him. (I think it's because he looks so much like Father, and Mother cannot be stern with Father, no matter what the matter at hand.) I hate watching our parents turn a blind eye to Jase's hellcat ways because as long as they keep allowing him to be an irresponsible tomcat, he'll continue to act that way.

It's likely curious how daughters of a plantation owner in northern Louisiana are free to practice mind reading and witchcraft. Our parents, while they love us, are rather aloof. Ame thinks they might even -or at least our mother, Michele -be under a bewitching spell. The woman can't have my father out of her sight for more than a few minutes without becoming agitated. If Father has to go away on business for a day or more, Mother takes to her bed.

Amelia and I have gotten used to it. We've grown to just appreciate the freedom it provides. I especially welcome it because I know from her thoughts my mother is frightened of me. She thinks my telepathy is "unnatural" and a sign of something, possibly evil.

Our father, on the other hand, views things differently. Unlike Mother, Father's view of the world is open-minded. But we learned years before the reason for that.

One afternoon, three years earlier, Father sat the four of us down in his study to talk. Sitting in his great leather chair, he looked around at the four of us.

Jason sat on the matching brown leather chair. Ever one to make himself comfortable, he had put his feet up on a foot rest and was lazily lounging.

Amelia and I sat side by side on a sofa, while Tara sat on a sette off to the side.

Father looked at the four of us in turn. It seemed like his eyes rested on me the longest but Ame tells me I suffer from paranoid delusions sometimes.

I lowered my shields a bit to hear his thoughts. He had something important to tell us but he wasn't sure how to do it. I caught a word. Was it a name?

_Niall?_

My face must've revealed what I was doing. My father's gaze fixed on me, he cleared his throat. I started.

"Sookie?"

"Yes, Father?"

"If you are doing what I suspect you are doing, I'm asking you to stop. I'm sharing information with all four of you. You should use your gift to learn how to temper your impatience."

"Yes, Father." I hated disappointing him.

My father, then 42, was still a very handsome and gregarious man. Very charming, he was well-liked by everyone. Accustomed to being dealt with fairly, he was chagrined to have been cheated in business several years before by a rather unsavory businessman named Rattray. After that incident, he had come to occasionally asking me to sit in the next room while he discusses business. While my mother fears my gift as an indication of my delivery from Satan himself, my father has no compunction of using it to ensure fair business dealings.

Returning my attention to my father, I saw that he held in his hand a piece of parchment. Old and stylish, the seal was unfamiliar to me. I glanced at Amelia and lowered my shield.

Amelia's thoughts were a mystery to me.

_It looks like a symbol of the Fae._

Just then Ame turned her head slightly and caught my gaze. She squared her shoulders and gave me her 'get out of my head' look. I quickly turned away and returned my attention to my father.

"Children," he paused, a smile twisting his lips. "As I look at you, I am left to recognize that you are no longer children."

"Father," Tara was good with our parents. Being the most "normal" of us, she would often intervene. "we'll always be your children. It does not matter our age."

"True enough," Father nodded.

I wished he would tell us his news. I fought the inclination to dip once more into his head. I silently laughed at myself. This is exactly why he was forever scolding me to train in patience. I live my life as though always peeking behind the curtain just because I can.

"Children, there is some news I must share with you. It has to do with our heritage. This is my bloodline, and, as such, is passed down to you. Your mother-"

He's afraid! My eyes shot wide open. They met his. He silently asked for my cooperation. I swallowed my fears and gave a slight nod.

"your mother is not a part of this. As such, I wish to protect her and let thus remain a secret from her for the timebeing."

The four of us, quite in shock over our usual jovial father's uncharacteristic seriousness, just nodded our heads silently. I glanced at Tara. Her thoughts were a mystery.

_This has to do with Gran. I know it._

Clamping down my shield, I forced my eyes back to my father.

"Your grandfather -my father-Earl Stackhouse was not truly my father. Therefore, he was not truly your grandfather."

I looked around at my siblings. Tara's face remained immobile. Her thoughts were caught on one word: _what?_

Jason's face had a look of disbelief. He was thinking how our sweet deceased grandmother was apparently a person of loose morals.

Amelia was staring-rather blankly-at father. She wondered if we were related to the Fae?

I stared at Amelia. In my eyes, my unspoken questions.

"Sookie! I swear! I hate when you do that! I'm your biggest supporter-you know that. But get out of my head!"

Chastised, I turned away from Amelia. I felt tears well up in my eyes. They didn't realize how hard it was to always work at the shields. I was never allowed to just be-just be with people -just exist. My acceptance into society was premised on my ability to maintain myself as aloof from everyone at all times.

It was a difficult way to live. It especially stung when my family-who allegedly loved me -didn't get it.

"Sookie, Amelia. Please calm your fretting and focus on my words. I do not know how much time I have left on this earth. I need you to understand some important things.

"Your true grandfather was named Brigant. He is long deceased. His father, Niall Brigant, is your true great-grandfather. He still lives. You have never met him. I have met him only once, as a child. I recently received a letter from him. He is announcing his intentions to visit with us. He wishes to know his grandson and great-grandchildren."

I couldn't keep silent.

"Father? There is more? More you wish to tell us?"

My father looked at me and, shaking his head, smiled sadly.

"You, my lovely daughter, will make it easy for no man."

My father's words stung, but I did as I always did: shrugged it off.

"Niall Brigant is a very special man. As such, his descendants are similarly special."

In the silence that followed the four of us exchanged glances. I looked at them, but my mind focused on not 'hearing' anything.

"How, Father?" Jase surprisingly was the one to ask the next question.

"We are descended from a rather different bloodline."

"Like we're royalty?" Tara asked.

"No," Amelia shook her head. "We're Fae."

Father raised an eyebrow, looking at Amelia in wonder.

"You are not incorrect Amelia. How did you deduce this?"

"I study with Octavia a little bit. I recognized the seal on the parchment."

Father nodded.

I just looked back and forth between Father and Amelia. It was all I could do to keep my mind closed to them. I rubbed my temple from the stress.

"Please, explain," I shook my head. "I must retire to my room to rest my head."

"Fae,"

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**AN: I have to admit, this one really had me jazzed and I was all set to do it but then I just started "The Dead Man" on a lark and that was that. Oh well...**


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